The campfire crackled softly in the middle of the clearing, casting flickering shadows over Lucas's face. The faint smell of burning pine drifted through the night air, mixing with the cold bite of the wind. Across from him, the others sat in silence—no words, just the weight of what had happened earlier pressing on everyone's shoulders.
Lucas stared into the flames, replaying the confrontation in his mind. The sound of the gunshot. The flash of rage in their attacker's eyes. And then the sudden, suffocating quiet that followed. He hadn't meant for it to happen… but in that moment, instinct had taken control.
"Still thinking about it?" Mara's voice broke the silence, low and tentative. She sat beside him, knees pulled to her chest, eyes glistening from both the firelight and unspoken worry.
Lucas didn't answer right away. He just gave a slow nod. "It's not something you just forget, Mara. Every time I close my eyes, I see him… I see the way he fell."
Mara exhaled slowly, brushing her hair out of her face. "You did what you had to. He would've killed us all."
Lucas clenched his jaw. The logic made sense, but it didn't erase the heaviness in his chest. "I know. But knowing and feeling are… different things."
A log in the fire shifted with a pop, sending sparks drifting into the air. The sound made Elias flinch from across the circle. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the rifle in his lap—ever since the fight earlier, he'd barely spoken, his eyes darting to every shadow like an animal expecting a predator.
"We can't stay here much longer," Elias finally said, his voice raw. "If they had scouts out there, more will come looking. And when they do… it won't just be one man."
"Then where do we go?" Mara asked.
Lucas looked up from the fire. "North. There's an abandoned service tunnel near the ridge. It's cramped, but it's shelter—and it's out of sight."
The group exchanged glances, weighing the risks. Staying meant danger. Moving meant exposure. Neither option was safe, but safety was a luxury they hadn't had in weeks.
"Fine," Elias muttered. "We leave before first light."
As the others started packing what little they had, Lucas remained by the fire. His thoughts drifted again, unbidden, to the man he'd killed. He didn't know his name, didn't know his story. All he knew was the moment when their eyes locked—an unspoken recognition that only one of them was walking away alive.
He wondered if the man had family. If someone out there would be waiting for him, not knowing why he never came home. That thought stung more than the wound on Lucas's shoulder, more than the exhaustion in his bones.
"Lucas." Mara's voice was softer this time. She stood behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Don't carry it alone."
He glanced up at her, managing a faint, tired smile. "I don't know how not to."
"You learn," she said simply. "Because if you don't… it'll break you before the enemy ever does."
Her words lingered as they doused the fire and prepared for the dark trek ahead. Lucas took one last look at the clearing, at the fading embers glowing like dying stars. The night around them was silent—too silent.
And in that silence, the weight on his chest pressed just a little harder.